Second Rate
by xnitax
Summary: [Rocket Power]- Reggie is forced to deal with how she is treated by Raymundo, as second rate family member.
1. Superhero Bandaid

Author's Notes:

-waves- It is I! I know, I know, I have two other unfinished stories, but what the hell. I can take a crack at something else right? This is sort of a spin-off of when they go to New Zealand. Not really. It's more of Reggie dealing with being sort of second rate in her family and how she confronts her dad about it. I cherish reviews and flames. I love being toasty warm in this dull weather. J 

Disclaimer: Rocket Power is © to its respected owners. 

* * *

PROLOGUE

Reggie is seventeen years young and one of the most famed surfers in the world, besides her brother Otto. She's lost her babyish complexion and traded it for a more distinct older look. Her baggy clothes have gone the way of the dinosaurs, not meaning that she has become a teeny bopper.

Otto is still excelling at everything that has met him and his ego is growing bigger everyday. He's always flexing his muscles or showing off his brand new Mercedes-Benz that he had recently won from a competition. 

Maurice "Twister" Rodriguez is still a bit on the slow side but he's found his potential to be a great student. He's beat Otto in something other than luge. (And that is...oops not telling you.)

Samuel Dullard had gone on a diet and has been keeping most of his weight off. He's still full on computer geek, but in a more subtle way.

Other than that, they haven't changed much.

* * *

I clutch the trophy tightly to my chest so much that the little surfboard on top of the statue juts into my ribs. My eyes water and by some unmentionable force they manage to stay there. Second place is good. I usually am very happy to place, but not this time. It's because Otto got first place.

My eyes are stinging, but not because of the trophy jabbing into me. It's because of Otto and Raymundo. They act as if I'm not here. They are just having their own little celebration in the front of the car. The thought of it sends a chill down my back. In an instant a tear escapes and I'm shivering and trying desperately to hold back my tears.

Raymundo notices for once, but he raises an eyebrow and asks, "Reg, are you cold?" and throws his coat my way. Before I can utter a "Thank you," he resumes his conversation with Otto.

Today was the first competition where Otto and I were on different teams and were competing against each other. When we were younger it was a boys division and a girls division. I'm feeling upstaged and forgotten. Otto always has to steal the lime light.

* * *

I part the curtains to let any trace of sunshine come through. I'm so bored that I trace the henna tattoo around my ankle. The lighting radiates the sky for a millisecond and then thunder crashes.

"C'mon! Please, please, please stop raining!" Otto pleads to no one in particular. Otto is dressed in a blue pair of surfing shorts that had a white stripe on the side. He isn't wearing a shirt but his shark tooth necklace gleams a pearly white. As always, his favorite pair of sunglasses is always nearby, but its only there for effect. He doesn't wear it as much as he used to. As he stretches out on the couch he emphasizes his muscles unintentionally. At least I think so, because I really don't need my little brother showing off to me.

"Otto, why do you want to go surfing so badly? Its not like you need any more practice..." I admit. I'm wearing a purple tank top that is a shade darker than my hair and a low cut jean skirt.

He groans inwardly and replies, "I want to nail a handstand while surfing. I know I can do it."

"That is completely and utterly impossible. You can't possibly do a hand stand and keep your board going at the same time. You don't have the best hand-to-eye coordination anymore."

"I thank you for your confidence Reg. I feel the love." He motions his hands back and forth from where I am standing and where he is sitting.

"I'm very sure of it." I walk out of the room promptly and head towards the kitchen to look for something to eat. When I come back to the parlor, I notice that Raymundo is sitting down to go over some of Otto's surf competitions. Oh great, I think to myself. Raymundo is going to go on one of his lecture rampages. It's become his new found hobby recently.

There is a little feedback from the camera but sure enough on the television, Otto starts hanging ten and lands a perfect score. I watch as he rides into the curl. Then Raymundo pauses the tape.

"See? This is where you went wrong. You have to turn the front of your board angled so you don't keep surfing straight into the wave," Raymundo informs Otto while flailing his arms wildly.

"You might not be so lucky with the judges next time," he continues. Otto knows by now just to let him rant and rave until the cows come home because it is the only way to get him off your back. "Sure, Dad, sure," he mumbles. I didn't have to be reprimanded myself; at least I didn't think so until I started to walk to my room.

"Where are you going little Miss?" 

"Um, no where, maybe to the kitchen…" I say feeling skeptical.

"Oh, it's your turn. I have to show you all your mistakes. I'll show you where you went wrong and where Otto won the competition. You could have won."

"Oh-okay," I stutter as I sit down. He fast forwards the tape until he gets to my heat. He starts pointing out the little things that are part of my surfing style. I can't possibly understand why he has to do this. I mean, I don't need to feel worse than I already do right now. By this time I'm so annoyed that I tune him out completely and nod whenever he hesitates now and then. 

I breathe a sigh of relief when he finally gets up to go do something else. I don't remember when he started being such a big grouch. He makes me feel so inferior and he's like the water to Otto's ego that's burning like a grease fire. And we all know that if you pour water on a grease fire, the only thing it does is get bigger and burn more. You get what I'm saying? 

I have to relieve some of this emotional stress, somehow. Maybe I'll go to the gym and start hitting some punching bags. It's gonna be so fun. I roll my eyes at the idea of that. Otto looks at me and gives me this lethal look. I haven't done anything to him...yet. I do decide to go to the gym, to do anything, just to get away from this house and its wretched inhabitants.

I see Trent on my way to the gym. "Hey Gina," he waves and smiles. Oh I haven't told you that I have accepted the fact that my name is "Regina" so people shortened it to Gina or Reg. I smile politely and shyly say, "Hi Trent." He leans against his car and asks, "Where you headed?" His teeth are so white. 

"Eh, nowhere special I guess," I look down at my feet.

"Do you need a lift to 'nowhere special'?" 

"Not really, I think I'll just wander around." He shrugs and gets into his car. God, he is so cute. He's even cuter in the rain. Why didn't I say yes? I could have just said, "I stuck a crayon up my nose and it got stuck for two days." Okay, maybe it wouldn't have the same effect but you get the jist of it right?

I end up ditching the gym for a hot fudge sundae at The Shack. It's the complete opposite of what I was thinking. I figure that instead of working out, I can indulge myself the old fashioned way, with Ben & Jerry's Rocky Road ice cream.

As always Tito is here to console me. He is the greatest and is like a father to me. I hear his deep hearty laugh as he emerges from the kitchen. "Hey 'lil cuz," he says while wiping his hands on the apron.

"Hi Tito," I sigh. He goes around the counter and gives me a big bear hug. 

"Congratulations! I couldn't have done it betta myself sista'"

"Well, Otto did."

"Nah, the judges are old fashioned. They still haven't warmed up to girl— women surfers." I give him another hug and say my goodbyes. 

When I get home Otto gives me that lethal stare again. "Otto, what is your problem today?"

"Oh, really I have no problem…just the fact that you've managed to ruin my life again." I do a double take.

"What? I have never ruined your life." I declare in a matter-of-fact tone.

"That's what you think, but you're wrong."

"Are you going to sit here and criticize me or tell me what I have supposedly done?"

"I'm going to let you wonder."

"Oh, Otto, how childish it is of you to be this way." He gets up and goes to his room, thankfully. I grab the remote of our surfboard table and flop on the couch. I flip the channels incessantly not really pausing to find out what is actually on TV. I remember that the 200th issue of the 'Zine is due out in three days. I better work on that. While leafing through Trish's submission of the weekly advice column I spot an old photo of the gang. I notice that my face is scratched out on this particular one. I wonder who could have done that... "OTTO! What is your freakin' problem?!" I scream at the top of my lungs. He comes to my room nonchalantly and leans against the door frame. "To what do I owe this outburst to today?" he whistles.

"Otto, why the hell did you scratch my face out on this photo?" I can feel the flames burning in my eyes. His face is impassive. He puts his fingers to his face in mock shock (a/n haha I rhymed). 

"Whatever do you mean?"

"You know what I mean," I glare.

"It could have been some alien per chance, who happened to waltz into your room, see that certain picture with your horrible face on it, and to stop the burning sensation in his eyes, scratch it out. Don't you think?" He's lost it. He's lost his sanity and his chance for living. I spring towards him and he dashes out of the house. In heated fury I lock all the doors and windows once he's outside. It's still raining heavily. "You're not coming in here," I mouth to him from inside the house. He gives one final look of defeat as he heads to Twister's house. I grin with happiness as I settle back down to work on the 'Zine.

My fingers fly to the keyboard absent-mindedly. I just write another review on the upcoming surfers and my last competition. I make a mental note to call Jessica for the latest skate escapade. The 'Zine has a staff of over 15 now. I have to write a timeline for our 200th issue. I can't believe that we've come so far from me and Sammy, to a full blown staff. There are so many memorable issues. I have each and every copy stored away in a vault. If by some chance the 'Zine hits it big, I can be able to say that I believed in it and that I own each and every copy of the 'Zine. We're a bit more open in what we put inside the covers. There's a sport section, which is first, a boys section for camping and such, a girls section complete with an advice column, and the news of Ocean Shores. 

The 'Zine is not the only thing that has expanded. Conroy has bought most of the area around him and turned it into a huge skate park, one of the biggest in the country. The Shack has expanded by opening little stands on beaches all around California. I'm proud to say that Ocean Shores has been prospering beyond what we had thought in our tiny little heads. I notice the clock in the living room has struck five o'clock. I have to get going on dinner.

While mincing mushrooms and pretending it's Otto, I manage to cut my finger in the midst of it all. It's not a deep cut, but I have to grab a band aid from the bathroom. It stings like hell so I run towards our joint bathroom and open the cupboard. I throw everything out of the cupboard in my frustration for a band aid and happen to come upon a 20 pack of condoms. Now, now Otto, I finally have something on you. Dad doesn't expect you to have sex yet, you're only sixteen. Forgetting about my cut finger, I take the box and place it on the kitchen table for him to see when we get home.

I finish preparing dinner with a superhero band aid on my finger. I'm sitting in the chair farthest left from the box of condoms. Otto walks in and I smirk at him when he sees the box on the table. This time the expression on his face isn't pretend shock, but it's authentic this time. 


	2. Condoms

© to their respected owners. Short chapter.  
  
I stifle a laugh. How could one tiny black box with a horse on it cause so much fear in Otto? This is all too much fun. Dad strides in and throws his keys on the table knocking the box onto the floor.  
"What was that?" he asks flatly. I get up and walk around the square table to pick it up. With a mischievous smile I hand it to Dad. He looks me square in the eye and asks, "Are these yours?" I shake my head and stick my finger out at Otto. Raymundo looks relieved. He sits down and laughs from his heart in which there is no place more me.  
"Otto, I'm glad you're using protection," I look around me with fear in my eyes.  
"Yeah," Otto admits awkwardly as he looks at his feet. I can't suppress my anger.  
"RAYMUNDO! Is this a double standard or what? You look mortified when you think they're mine! But you're soooo relieved when you know its Otto's" I scream. He looks surprised at my outburst.  
"Reggie," he says calmly, "you're sixteen and Otto is seventeen." I can't believe my ears. It is no more than a second before my eyes well up with tears.  
"I'm seventeen. Otto is sixteen. Get it through your head!" He was stunned. I didn't blame him, I am too. He tries to calm me down, but Otto interrupts. "Raymundo, she's right, you know."  
"No Otto is seventeen; his birthday was May 11, 1986. Reggie's is.is." he snaps his fingers looking for the answer. I don't know what happened next. The only thing I know is I was flying up the stairs, three at a time. I must have yelled to Otto to give me his sports bag, because it ended up in my hands. I shut the door, and stuff everything I own in the bag. By the time I was done, I realized that it wouldn't close. So I had to unpack and re-fold everything.  
A thought struck me. I would have to finish the 'Zine. I have obligations, you know? I hastily finish it and print out n issue and save it on a disk. I write a note to Sammy to tell him to make any chances that were needed and that he was the guest editor of next week's issue. After making sure I had everything, I leave in the middle of the night. 


	3. Leave it to Lars

I just keep running and running. I don't know where I'm rushing to. I'm pretty sure that I can't go to Sammy's; after all, his mother would tell Raymundo where I am or where I'll be going. Maybe I can go to Lars and Twister's apartment. They moved out when Lars turned 18. Their mom, Mrs. Rodriguez, had had a set of twins recently. They wanted to give her space and gain their independence. I guess this is the way they thought was best.

            I run towards the city. It seems like there is this monster running after me and I can't do anything but flee from it. It keeps getting closer and closer, and that's when I run faster. I finally make it to the apartment out of breath.

            The lobby attendant is snoozing, so I casually let myself in. I make my way across the linoleum floor and my shoes squeak under the pressure of my weight. I press the up button on the elevator and examine myself in its sheen, polished doors. I'm a big mess. I take my comb out of my purse to fix my hair. I at least have to look presentable, right? It feels like hours before the elevator makes it way down, but at last I step inside. I push the button for floor #14. The elevator music is so soothing that I finally stop to catch my breath. I just realized that from my house to their apartment it's about 4 miles. I can't believe I ran that whole way without stopping for a breath. I'm really proud of that. 

            I walk out into the hallway and find their room number. I ring the bell rapidly many times. Twister finally answers the door after the 65496784452310th ring. He is dressed in his boxers when he opens the door. I watch as he tries to comprehend the situation and rub the sleep out of his eyes at the same time. I simply say, "Hi." 

He looks at me awkwardly and asks, "What's wrong? Wait, don't answer that and just come in." I just finish explaining the whole story to Twister when Lars wakes up. He looks at me, and then Twister, and then back at me. There's an awkward silence and I look at my feet. Finally he breaks it and asks, "Rocket Girl, what the fuck you doing here at this time of the night?" Oh God, I really don't want to tell my story again.

It takes me a trillion hours to retell my story. Lars and Twister look puzzled, but mostly sleepy. Lars has his eyes closed and so does Twister. One of them mutters, "Do you know what time it is?" I look at my watch and say quizzically, "4:45?"  Twister gets up and walks around the room cursing. He's very angry. He leans against the counter and yells, "I have to get up in fifteen minutes for work! Thanks Reggie!" I try to relieve some of the tension in the room so I try to be comical, "You're very…welcome." Bad idea, very bad idea that that was. 

"I have to get up for work in 4 hours! I'm not going to make it through the day with only another 4 hours sleep!" he screams. Gosh, they sure have tempers. 

"But I only wasted about fifteen minutes of your time, you know, you can like…I don't know, live through that?"

"REGGIE! It's going to take me a long time to get back to sleep."

"Oh." I look around the room, and Lars is snoozing. How typical and predictable of him. I throw the pillow at his face to muffle his snores. He startles himself. And me. He eventually gets up to go to sleep in his bed. He closes the door behind him, then realizing that he had just walked himself out into the hall. He saunters back in nonchalantly and says, "Wrong door." Leave it to the Rodriguez brothers to do that.


	4. Nice to Finally Have Met You

AUTHOR'S NOTES! This story is ending abruptly. Partly because I am late in writing a chapter for Rocket Power: A Starry Eyed Girl, and I want to start a new fiction, where Reggie is sent to a prepatory/boarding school. Sorry guys! I have to finish one fiction in this lifetime.

After a few days of crashing at the Rodriguez Brothers' apartment, Reggie walked into the house to find her so-called father reading the newspaper. He didn't bother to look up but he did ask, "Did you clean your room?" She didn't bother to answer.  
"Do you have a favorite? Did you know I was gone?"  
"Of course I don't have a favorite," he said without looking up.  
"Then did you know I was gone?" He grunted. She continued, "If you don't have a favorite then why do you act like you do." Silence was all that was heard. "You have to change." He finally looked up.  
"Change what?"  
"You don't love me, do you?"  
"I'm not talking about this."  
"Its true then, you really don't love me. Is it because I remind you of mom? I hate the way you tell everyone she died of cancer. Especially when you know she died of a broken heart. You cheated on her, and that was that. That's the only reason she got cancer. She was healthy. You know it. You are just too guilty to look me in the face. Because you won't get over yourself. It's too late now. You've ruined everything because you lost someone. Face the facts, I lost someone too. Now you're going to lose someone else. I'm walking out. I'm not letting you ruin my life anymore. I won't be hurt."  
She looked out the window before taking a step. No tears slid down her cheek. This was a time of pride, not sadness. She turned on her heel and walked out the door. The sunset poured over her face and she breathed a heavy sigh of relief. Freedom, my name is Reggie Shorland. Its nice to have finally met you.

EPILOGUE!

Shorland is Reggie's mother's maiden name. I guess she's dropping her father's last name. Hmm. That's all there is to the story.


End file.
